


An Immodest Proposal

by FauxFidele



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Aliases, Anal Sex, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Hannibal, Dominance, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hannigram - Freeform, Happy Ending, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Murder Husbands, On the Run, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Hannibal, Post-Series, Power Bottom, Power Play, Public Display of Affection, Public Sex, Sassy Will, Shameless Smut, Shopping, Smut, Swearing, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, domestic hannigram
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5283845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FauxFidele/pseuds/FauxFidele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-finale world where Will and Hannibal live together in Florence and have a (semi) normal domestic life. </p><p>Hannibal insists upon Will being fitted for a bespoke suit, and Will is predictably obstinate and sassy at every given opportunity. They spend a lot of time arguing (i.e. flirting).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'ed, trying to knock these out for the holidays. Because everyone loves Hannibal Holiday smut! 
> 
> All comments and suggestions welcome, thank you all! :)

“You know, this is entirely unnecessary,” Will grumbled, shuffling his feet as he walked. The hand next to him reached for his, lacing fingers between his own, and squeezed tightly as they walked in stride down the sidewalk.

Will looked to Hannibal with softened eyes, a nuance of a smile on his lips. “You know I _hate_ shopping,” he complained. His thumb absent-mindedly traced the edges of the older man’s hand as they moved in unison.

“I assure you, Will, it is _entirely_ necessary,” he spoke, chuckling lightly.

There was a time in his life that he would never have been talked into this kind of excursion, but he found himself abnormally susceptible to Hannibal’s sharp, painted accent that purred all of his words into flowery sonnets. It often had a dizzying effect on him, which Hannibal wisely twisted to his advantage at every opportunity.

Will groaned exaggeratedly with his bottom lip jutted out, reminiscent of a disgruntled teen. A million different activities involving Will’s slick, pouty lips came to his mind, but Hannibal ignored it, denying him the satisfaction of a response.

They reached a burgundy colored awning and Hannibal lead them both to the entrance, opening the door for his partner and ushering him inside. An enthusiastic host greeted them with a cheer, Hannibal embracing him fondly kissing both cheeks. “Buongiorno, Niccolo!” he stated with poise.

Niccolo returned the gesture, pecking Hannibal’s cheeks politely. “Ciao, Claudiu!”

Since arriving in Florence, Will and Hannibal had become accustomed to using a variety of aliases. ‘Claudiu Moldovanu’ was the name currently accompanying Hannibal’s picture on his passport. On Will’s, ‘Thomas Hawthorne.’

“Is this –?” he stopped, mid-question.

Wrapping a cool hand around his waist, Hannibal pulled Will to his side. “This is my _husband_ , Thomas,” he announced, his posture erecting with bravado.

Warmth surged through Will as his ears became heated and his cheeks flushed pink.

They had talked about it. Using the pretense of a married couple. Both men decided it was the most practical facade to take up, but that was the extent to which it was discussed. Hearing the words roll off Hannibal’s tongue, with such ease and … _certainty_ , was disorienting. And strangely _exhilirating_.

“Buongiorno,” he mustered, finally, politely mimicking the quick kisses he saw them exchange.

“We are measuring for your suit, today, Thomas?” Niccolo asked, in a heavily-coated Italian accent.

He was so busy worrying about the heat building in his groin that he forgot about their new monikers. It was only when Hannibal nudged him — hard — that he remembered to respond.

Will tried to hide his disinterest, but his furrowed brows exposed the thoughts he didn’t dare vocalize. “Oh - yes, I suppose we are,” he said, feigning enthusiasm.

“ _Thomas_ ,” Hannibal started, in that familiar tone of lecturing that Will _loved_ so much, “Niccolo is the best tailor in Florence, I can vouch for this personally.”

Niccolo gave a pleased nod of gratitude in response.

“I’m sure this experience will be delightful,” Will stated, regretting his choice of words as soon as they came out of his mouth. _Like I fucking know how to converse about clothes,_ he thought, reprimanding himself internally.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes at Will in disapproval and cleared his throat as a distraction.

“It’s quite difficult to get an appointment here, my love,” he scolded, reminding him of his manners. Will's cheeks burned red and he lost himself to thoughts of Hannibal showering him with terms of endearment. It was a strange juxtaposition of elements, like acrid decadence, too rich for Will's mind to consume.

Niccolo laughed suddenly, snapping Will back into the present. “It’s okay. Thomas, I’ll be quick. This is why you've come to the best,” he quipped, with a playful wink, before excusing himself to grab his supplies from the back room.

“I think he likes me,” Will crooned, smirking at the deep frown that formed on Hannibal's face in response. He didn’t dare give Will the satisfaction of responding, so he proceeded to busy himself by looking around the boutique.

A panoply of fabrics, colors and patterns littered the showroom’s shelves and mannequins, and Hannibal inspected each article of clothing with deliberation. He pulled various brightly-hued dress shirts and a few pairs of slacks before Will interrupted him.

“Han —,” Will started, before remembering their guise, “ _Claud._ ”

“Yes, _Thomas_ ,” he responded flatly, exaggerating annoyance.

“This is not some montage from _Pretty Woman_ and I am NOT Julia Roberts,” Will chided, suppressing a stupid smile. He wasn’t sure if Hannibal would even understand the reference, but was sure he would get the implication.

Hannibal’s eyes lightened and he chuckled softly. “No … not Julia Roberts. You’re my _husband_ ,” he replied, considering his words, “and I want you to look the part.”

There was that word again. Will wasn’t sure whether he was a little offended or really aroused. It was a fairly insulting, but that condescending snark in Hannibal’s tone was always quick to elevate his pulse. Will couldn’t deny that he loved the challenge of Hannibal’s attempts to control him.

“Well,” Will said, drawing out his words, I’ll try _really hard_ to play that part well.” He wanted to laugh at his own innuendo, but bit his lip to keep a straight face before adding, "... _dear_."

A slight flare lit up in Hannibal's eyes at the jest, before he turned to lead Will back to the dressing room. “Niccolo will take your measurements just as soon as you change,” he instructed, handing over a pair of dress slacks.

Will sighed as he entered the room, looking back to Hannibal with a resigned smile. “Do I have to?” he asked, with overly hopeful eyes. Hannibal made a shooing motion with his hand, signaling for Will to start changing. 

He emerged from the dressing room in fitted, grey slacks and an undershirt. Hannibal eyed him up and down, finally allowing an appreciative nod.

“Perfect fit … guess I don’t need a tailor after all,” Will enthused, smiling like a child.

Hannibal shoved a shirt at him. “Put this on,” he demanded, ignoring the comment. Will examined the fabric, a muted pink with faint pinstripes that reminded him of a hue that would be found on the nursery wall of a colonial plantation house. He curled his lip in distaste as he looked to the shirt, and then to Hannibal.

“I … um, _honey_ ,” he spoke with exaggerated pauses, emphasizing that last word. “This is the ugliest fucking shirt I have ever seen.”

A long silence. Hannibal stared blankly at Will, pondering a response.

Once again Will looked at the shirt and back to Hannibal before adding, “I mean, perhaps if I were in a barbershop quartet — ”

He didn’t finish his thought before Hannibal pushed him into the dressing room, using forceful arms against Will’s chest to back him into the wall, the door swinging shut behind them. Will’s heart raced at the contact, but he relented, smiling at the reaction he created.

“Kidding,” he offered, forming an amused smirk that gave way to a dazzling, pearly smile.

“You seem to think you’re being cute,” Hannibal replied, seemingly annoyed.

Will laughed. “Oh, come on,” he said, eyes trailing down Hannibal’s torso and back up, “I’m a _little_ cute.”

“There is _nothing_ cute about you right now,” Hannibal hissed.

The tenting in Hannibal’s slacks betrayed the words he spoke. Will admired the raised fabric and shot Hannibal an impressed eyebrow before bursting into a grin, and even Hannibal could not suppress a smile.

“Just put the damned shirt on,” he said, holding back a laugh.

Will pulled off his undershirt and tossed it on the ground carelessly, eliciting the exact leering side-eye from Hannibal he had hoped for. Grinning, he slipped into the pastel shirt, buttoning it obediently, as he eyed his reflection skeptically. Once he was finished adjusting the collar, Hannibal examined the fit and seemed appeased. Before exiting the dressing room, however, Hannibal leaned into Will and clutched the front of his shirt.

“ _I swear to you, Will_ ,” he breathed out, barely a whisper, “if you keep this up, I will bend you over and fuck you until you _beg for reprieve_.” The words ghosted against Will’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Hannibal relaxed his grip, stood up straight, and exited the room calmly.

Fighting the heated flush of Hannibal’s touch, Will breathed out long and slow as he felt his cock swell at the warning. Hopefully that is not an idle threat, he mused. The slacks became tightened against his erection, pushing uncomfortably against the delicate fabric. _Well, shit_.

“Ready, Thomas?” a nearby voice asked.

 _God dammit, Hannibal_ , he cursed to himself, as Niccolo appeared in the doorway. Tape measure in hand, he stood expectantly, ready to kneel to Will’s inseam. Hannibal stood just behind him, beaming victoriously.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's tailor takes all of Will's measurements, and Hannibal can hardly stand to watch. There's only one way for the happy murder husbands to resolve their frustrations with one another. (It's smut ... the answer is smut) 
> 
> Smut and even a little Hannigram fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing basically unedited, so please leave me suggestions or comments. Thank you:)

It occurred to Will that he could excuse himself - fabricate a scenario in which he needed to use the restroom or make a phone call - but he knew that Hannibal would only find more satisfaction in his squirming. He expected it.

Will smiled politely at the tailor. “Ready when you are.”

The thin layer of material did nothing to conceal his erect cock, leaving a perfect outline in the protruding fabric as Niccolo politely looked elsewhere, thumbing at his tape measure. Hannibal observed Will with a predatory concentration, eyeing the trail of his tailor’s hands as he reached toward the inseam.

“Thomas,” the tailor began hesitantly, “Do you,” he paused, “always dress to your left?” Utterly unfamiliar with the terminology, Will could only assume he was referring to side of his pants which currently bulged from arousal. He pondered for a moment before answering, “I—”

“Yes, _always_ ,” Hannibal interjected firmly. Will gulped at the display of possessiveness, and despite being partly embarrassed, he could not stop his dick from jerking as he met Hannibal’s eyes, narrowed in a territorial focus. _Your cock belongs to me_ , he said, without needing words.

Niccolo looked to Hannibal and gave him an affirmative nod and proceeded to measure the opposite inseam. He turned Will from front to back, making tiny marks as he measured. It was a relief for Will to find that he completely ignored the power struggle going on between the two men, but Hannibal still followed the tailor’s moves attentively.

When shifting focus to the shirt, Niccolo stood back, examining Will, and raised a skeptical eyebrow at the shirt he wore. “This fabric is _bellissimo_ , Thomas, but I think maybe in a blue or maybe green, yes? A neutral pattern, perhaps?”

Will looked to Hannibal before breaking into a laugh. “Must have been reading my mind,” he replied, overly cheerful. “Claud here is always trying to get me into something pink,” he snarked, biting at his lip to keep from giggling.

Niccolo choked out an uncomfortable laugh, turning to take note of Hannibal’s searing glare from behind them, and reverted back to a stoic resolve.

“We will confirm the colors from the swatch when we’re done,” he offered. “The color of _this shirt_ — is of no importance,” Hannibal derided, still focused intensely on Will’s body and the tailor’s nimble fingers, now finishing his nips and tucks on the shirt.

“Relax, _babe_ ,” Will purred, “We can get it in every color — _any way_ you want it.” He suppressed a grin as Hannibal's mouth relaxed into a sideways smile.

The atmosphere diffused as Niccolo had Will slip in and out of various styles of jackets, finally settling on a slim-fit, Italian style that both the tailor and Hannibal agreed fit his frame the best.

A wave of relief washed over Will when Niccolo announced he had everything he needed and retreated hastily to the back. Will suspected that the tailor was equally relieved, considering the quickened pace he took up once he was finished. 

Making his way back into the dressing room, Will turned slowly and looked inquisitively toward Hannibal. “You enjoyed that less than I expected you to,” Will asserted, adding, “Thought you’d like seeing me squirm uncomfortably under the touch of a relative stranger.”

Hannibal’s face was unreadable. “I think you knew _exactly_ how I would feel while watching someone else’s fingers touch you in places that were only meant for my own.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly _my idea_ , was it?” Will blinked, wide-eyed and feigning innocence.

Slowly and deliberately, Hannibal walked toward Will, backing him into the wall of the dressing room. Shutting the door behind him, he pounced on Will like a lion would its prey.

Hannibal pressed his lips against Will’s already parted mouth that welcomed him with eager, sucking kisses. Their lips became slick as tongues tangled together desperately, twisting and insatiable. Hannibal tugged hungrily at Will’s bottom lip, chewing on the pouty flesh that had been taunting him all day.

One hand worked to unbutton Will’s shirt while he continued to kiss along Will’s jaw, slowly moving down his neck, stopping occasionally to lick and nip at the exposed flesh. Will allowed a soft moan to escape as he bit along his collarbone. “ _Hannibal_ ,” he whispered, unable to stop the name from dripping off his tongue.

“Has all of this," he paused, nodding his head toward the pile of clothes, "just been your idea of a proposal?” Will asked, panting as his chest heaved in and out, but offering an exasperated smile.

Hannibal moved his lips back to Will’s neck and took a tender nip, sucking gently on the spot. Will whimpered weakly as Hannibal pulled away with a wet suction of his lips.

“No,” he said plainly, admiring Will’s open shirt, exposing just the center of his neck and torso.

He brushed the fabric out of the way to kiss his chest, making a trail of soft touches until he reached the nipple. He grazed teeth across the nub, biting gently and swirling his tongue around the sensitive flesh. Will tried to suppress a moan, but it only resulted in his breathing becoming more labored.

“Did you want it to be?” Hannibal asked as he pulled away once more.

Will allowed a smile to form on half of his face, briefly, as his breathlessness made it hard to hold an expression. “Well, I’m in no condition to answer that,” he mused with a light laugh.

Will shifted his weight and this time he pushed back into Hannibal, forcing him against the wall and bringing his lips to Hannibal’s ear, gently kissing and tugging at his lobe. He pressed his wet lips into Hannibal’s neck and bit hard enough to leave a mark as Hannibal suppressed a gasp.

“I don’t care what this is, Hannibal,” Will said, planting a series of delicate kisses down his neck, allowing his lips to linger gently over his skin. He stopped suddenly and pulled away, facing Hannibal.

“But I’m with you, whatever it is,” Will whispered, before lowering himself to his knees.

Will unfastened Hannibal’s belt with ease and opened his fly, letting his pants fall down to his ankles. Hannibal’s cock jerked wildly as Will put his mouth against it through the fabric of his briefs, feeling the rock-hard muscles of his erection against his lips. Hannibal winced as Will trailed his kisses up and down his shaft, tormenting him with the barrier that separated their skin.

“ _Will_ ,” Hannibal whispered, barely audible.

Fingers hooked to Hannibal’s waistband and pulled slightly, revealing the pink, swollen head that peeked out past his foreskin. Will dragged the tip of his tongue over the head, circling his tongue around the slit, licking at the precum that glistened down his cock.

Finally Will pulled at the elastic band, lowering his briefs down to his knees. Hannibal’s hips already swayed impatiently towards Will, who lowered himself to graze his lips along the inside of his thigh, creating a trail of kisses until he could no longer move higher.

Will’s mouth now motioned toward his balls, carefully taking them in his mouth and caressing his tongue between and around them. Hannibal moaned faintly and bit down on his lip in an attempt to control himself.

Will continued onward, making a slick trail from his balls to his shaft, tracing up along his head. His tongue lingered there, swirling around the top of his cock, adding a flick of the tongue around his frenulum. Hannibal gulped and breathed heavily, struggling to find restraint as beads of sweat glistened across his temples. Will pulled away to admire Hannibal in this rare, vulnerable form.

“ _Please, Will_ ,” he whispered. “ _Don’t stop_.”

Will smiled and looked up to him obediently. Hannibal grabbed a fistful of Will’s curls in each hand and yanked forcefully, pulling Will back into his lap.

He lowered himself onto Hannibal, taking him in whole while using his right hand to steady at the base. His cock pushed back against Will's tongue and he felt himself growing increasingly hard as he recognized Hannibal's savory taste, sweaty and delectable.

Will’s erection pushed painfully against the fabric of his pants and he undid his fly with his free hand, liberating his own cock as he sucked off Hannibal. He fucked fluidly into Will’s mouth now, thrusting into the back of his throat, as Will began stroking his own cock, smearing the generous flow of precum along his length.

Hannibal's thrusting became more urgent and Will increased his strokes to match the speed. The grip on Will’s hair suddenly grew more painful as his body tensed and Hannibal released into the back of Will’s throat with a breathy whimper escaping from under his breath. The glorious taste of his cum radiated heat through Will’s body and he exploded over the edge, sending ripples of semen up through fingers.

Hannibal was sweaty and breathless, panting weakly as he eyed Will up and down, brows furrowed in concern.

Will looked down at himself to see that the pink shirt he wore, opened but still covering his shoulders, was spattered with trails of cum. He looked innocently up at Hannibal and shrugged, laughing through his still labored breaths.

“Well, _fuck_ ,” he exclaimed, chuckling and trying to catch his breath.

Hannibal could no longer contain the smile that spread across his face, breaking into a subtle laugh as he shook his head at the uncivilized man in front of him. He bent down to retrieve his slacks, but upon standing up both men realized that something had fallen from his pockets to the ground.

Hannibal bent down quickly to grab it, but Will was already opening the pouch that had freed itself from hiding. Two gold bands emptied into the palm of Will’s hand as he stared blankly at them before slowly lifting his eyes to meet Hannibal.

His eyes softened upon meeting Will’s, and Hannibal shrugged unapologetically.

“Maybe it is a proposal, Will,” he offered gently. A tinge of embarrassment was noticeable in Hannibal's voice, fleeting, but present nonetheless.

Will stood abruptly and wrapped his free hand around the bend of Hannibal’s neck, threading his fingers into his hair and pressed their lips together softly. Will leaned his head in and nuzzled his nose against Hannibal’s, both breathing in each others' presence.

Hannibal slid his lips to meet Will’s and lingered for longer than what seemed reasonable. Finally pulling away, Will smiled affectionately and offered the rings back to Hannibal.

He accepted them both, but grabbed Will’s hand and made a questioning gesture. Will nodded, and Hannibal slid the ring onto his left ring finger. Will reached for the other band and repeated the same action with Hannibal.

Will sighed heavily. “Well,” he said with a laugh, “Maybe I am Julia Roberts.”

Hannibal grinned affectionately at his beau, and both men laughed at the absurdity. "Just one thing left to do," Hannibal announced as he began to tidy up their quarters.

"What's that?" Will asked, hesitantly.

"Patience, love," Hannibal cooed, brushing his lips to Will's gently, "You'll see."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has harbored a little bit of resentment about Will's sassy display at the tailor's shop. He decides to teach him a valuable lesson about consequences ... and (a little) punishment. 
> 
> This is a long chapter, and is basically porn with very little plot, just to be clear. OH, and bottom Hannibal because its Christmas, you know. 
> 
> Happy Holidays, Fannibals!

Later in the afternoon, they entered through the front door of their flat, still chuckling about their tête-à-tête in the dressing room earlier.

The employees had eyed them both suspiciously as they exited, Will donning a new pale pink dress shirt with a cashmere sweater over top, probably assuming he really was Hannibal’s paid escort, Will had mused. The two men became infected by each other’s laughter, until each of them was winded, trying to catch their breath between the giggling.

Hannibal set the large, paper shopping bag on their kitchen counter, which Will noted was quite contrary to the almost obsessive manner in which he normally tidied things.

The kitchen was filled with fresh groceries – among them he recognized onions, cilantro, carrots, arugula, peppers, and a _cucuzza_ (which Hannibal had taught him when they moved to Florence, a long squash-like vegetable).

He looked down to the sleek, metal band encircling his finger, twirling it under his thumb. He probably intended to present it over dinner, he guessed, looking to the bottle of Brunello di Montalcino riserva 1975, which he saw last week at a local market for around €750. A twinge of guilt shot through him at the thought of consuming something so indulgent, but it would please Hannibal for him to do so.

And he enjoyed it, if he was honest.

“Is this our one last thing?” he asked, nodding toward the bottle of wine on the counter. Hannibal merely looked back at him with a curious naiveté.

“You said you had one more thing for us to do ...  so, dinner?” Will asked emphatically, deliberately repeating the question. Hannibal merely smiled and withheld a response, as if the question had been rhetorical, and proceeded to busy himself around the kitchen.

“Okay … gonna go change,” he said, suddenly remembering the embarrassing stains that spattered across his shirt, though they were now hidden by the chic cashmere sweater.

“Will,” Hannibal replied, curt in tone.

“Yes?” he drawled out, turning to meet his face, eyebrows raised in embellished expectancy.

“You’re not going to change out of your clothes,” he said, simply, and lowered his eyes back to his chores.

“Okay …” Will retorted, becoming agitated at the cryptic façade, “why not?”

Hannibal stopped what he was doing and turned to face Will, sighing heavily. He smiled gently and strode toward him, meeting him with little space between them.

“I don’t want you to change, Will,” he said, slowly enunciating each word, “because I can smell you, ripe in your own debauched victory, and it is … _divine_ ,” he narrowed his eyes as he spoke the last word, growling it out with a predatory insistence.

Will’s jaw slackened and he was left wordless, wide-eyed, staring back.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he breathed out, his cock twitching in response to the lewd explanation. “I …” he was stuttering, still trying to string words together, “I … can keep it on,” Will offered meekly.

“Yes, Will, you will keep it on,” Hannibal spoke, as if it were a command. He stepped back and gave them both space, pacing slowly around the younger man.

“I made you a promise earlier, do you remember it?” Hannibal asked, tone flat but eyes intense as ever, piercing into Will’s, searching for recognition. Will’s mind was a void other than the thundering of the heartbeat pulsing between his ears and the urgency at which the heat was spreading through his groin.

Hannibal smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll remind you,” he offered. “I said …” he paused, ensuring Will’s eyes were focused and his thoughts not drifting, “that if you continued to be difficult, I would have to _fuck you_ , until you _begged_ for mercy.”

Will blinked, finally remembering the exchange of words before their earlier encounter, nodding fondly at the memory.

“Something like that,” Will muttered, as a smirk spread across his face. “Don’t know if sucking you off really counts as being ‘difficult’, though,” he said with a skeptical smile.

Hannibal approached him with dangerous, albeit amused, purpose. “The evidence of your enjoyment is rather overwhelming, dear Will,” he said gently. “Like you enjoyed showing your cock off, to another man, in front of me.” His eyes were dark and steady, studying Will for a reaction.

“Hannibal, he was just the tai – ”

“ _Don’t_ lie,” Hannibal interjected harshly, his nostrils flaring an animalistic warning.

“Okay … ,” Will said softly, relenting with his palms raised. “I enjoyed it,” he admitted flatly, his breathing becoming heavier. “I knew you would keep your cover and I was … curious,” he said, almost a whisper.

His fingers reached for Hannibal’s shirt, clenching around the threads, as he pulled himself closer, leaning in to press lips against the stubble along his jawline. He traced the delicate kisses across his jaw, moving to slip his mouth into Hannibal’s parted lips.

Will pulled his lips from Hannibal’s, wet and wanton. “I was curious how you would react to someone being exposed to a _part of me_ ,” he paused, thinking, “… a part that you think belongs to you,” he said, finally.

A guttural scoff escaped from Hannibal behind the snarl that spread across his face. “ _I think_?” he challenged, in a low, menacing growl. “You _disagree_ , apparently,” he disparaged, both questioning and asserting.

Will shook his head, sighing, “Hannibal, that’s not what – ”

Before he could finish his thought, Hannibal snatched a fistful of his hair from behind, pulling his head back, exposing his throat. He gulped, Adam’s apple contracting with uncertainty, as Hannibal moved his tongue to trace along the exposed flesh. Will shivered from the soft caress – delicate, wet … and _hungry_.

Will groaned weakly as Hannibal’s tongue traveled lower, making circular motions along the outside of his neck, occasionally using his teeth to nip at the skin. “Will,” he whispered, between touches.

“Mmmm,” he moaned in response, breaths deepening with each touch of his lips.

Hannibal used his free hand to grab Will’s left hand, reaching for his fingers, and let his own fingers feel around the cool, shiny metal ring that adorned his partner’s ring finger.

“This,” he spoke, watching it spin between his fingers, “means _you_ belong to _me_.” He looked toward his own finger, nodding in acknowledgment, “and I to you.” The grip on Will’s hair didn’t loosen, instead becoming more urgent as Hannibal pulled at his curls greedily, eyeing his open throat savagely.

Practically panting, Will’s lips curled up in a twisted smile, but he didn’t speak. He allowed one of his hands to grasp at Hannibal’s back, tracing the curves of his muscles that remained hidden under his shirt, but Hannibal nudged him away.

“Will,” he said, sternly, “not your turn.”

He released the fist that closed around his hair, but just as Will shifted to regain his balance, Hannibal pushed against him, backing him into the corner of their dining room. His palms moved down to Will’s hips, fingers grasping at the seam of the sweater, as he gently tugged it up and over his head, setting it aside.

“No touching,” he warned, with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

Again, Will tried to reach for Hannibal, who pulled just out of reach before locking his narrowed glare with Will’s, and shook his head from side to side, wagging just one finger in a scolding motion. Will’s cock throbbed, frustrated and uncomfortable, and his bottom lip was completely swollen from the force of his own teeth bearing down on it.

Hannibal forced his weight into him, moving back until he felt the feet of furniture at his heels. When he could no longer step backwards, Hannibal pushed Will down into the antique Victorian chair – the ornate, open frame of the armrests confined the younger man to the center of the seat.

Eyes wide and curious, Will licked his lips as he watched the older man hovering tall over him. Hannibal raised a single finger in front of him, signaling for him to stay put, as he wandered to the table, retrieving something from their shopping bag.

When he returned, Will saw that a patterned tie was laced between his fingers; the rich, indigo hue contrasted against his light skin in velvety folds. Will’s breath became deeper with every footstep that closed in on him.

Instead of returning to face him, Hannibal paced slowly around to the back of the chair as Will craned his neck, attempting to watch, before a gentle finger grazed across his cheek and motioned his head forward once again. He sighed out, almost a groan, just as he felt fingers grasp at his hands and pull them behind, around the open back of the chair and press them together.

“ _Hannibal_ …” he whimpered under a breath, as the cool, silken fabric twisted around his wrists, pulling it taut against the back of the chair with delicate efficiency. After a final, satisfactory tug at the knot, Hannibal circled back around, and brought himself to one knee to effectively meet his eyes.

“I said _no touching_ , Will,” he whispered against Will’s ear, ghosting his lips against the skin, goose bumps forming along the younger man’s neck. He moaned weakly, bucking his hips as his erection swelled painfully under his jeans, desperate and demanding for even the slightest touch.

Hannibal buried his face into the fabric of Will’s shirt, absorbing the scent and trailing his tongue along the darkened, stained spots, paying careful attention to the area around his nipple, licking at the tiny peaks through the barrier of the cloth.

“Nnnnnnnnnnff,” he groaned, as Hannibal drug teeth across the nub and allowed a tender nibble around the sensitive area.

“ _Shhh_ ,” he whispered back.

He moved his fingers to the buttons on Will’s shirt, pulling the top button slowly through its interstice, deliberate and poised, and then the next, until finally his shirt opened to reveal his chest and torso. Will threw his head back, baring his throat, and exposing it like fresh bait.  

Hannibal kissed a trail from the cleft of his neck, down to his chest, pausing to graze his teeth against his abdomen, nipping and sucking while his tongue absorbed the salt and sweat off his skin.

Dexterous fingers moved now to his fly, unbuttoning the jeans at long last, as Will’s dick ached painfully to be freed from the restricting material that now bore an obvious, wet pool from his abundant frustration. Hannibal guided his fingers around the curves of Will’s hips, narrow and angular between his hands, as the hips thrust impatiently back toward him.

He contracted his hands, moving down inside his jeans, just enough to squeeze his ass cheeks between his palms as Will let out a frustrated groan. “ _Fuck, Hannibal_ ,” he hissed, “this is torture.”

“Patience _, Will_ ,” Hannibal cooed, consoling him gently, as he gripped the waistband with his fingers, pulling his pants down slowly while Will squirmed to help them fall to his ankles.

“Are you punishing me?” Will asked, his face agonized in desperation, brows furrowed dramatically.

Hannibal pulled back to admire Will’s glistening cock, twitching and spilling over in precome, begging for his interaction.

“No, Will,” he replied, smiling at his state of sexual despair, “just keeping my promise.”

Will let out an animalistic growl as Hannibal stood, retreating once again to fetch an item out of the bag. He was dizzy with arousal and his cock throbbed, red and swollen and aching. This time Hannibal returned with a monotone-colored scarf, thumbing it between his fingers as he deliberated over his next move. Will’s eyes became wide and alert as he watched the older man stride toward him, twisting the scarf in his hands.

Hannibal cocked his head to the side and smiled deviously as Will’s eyes followed him, swallowing down a hesitant gulp.

“No more talking, Will,” he whispered, coming around to his side. “That always seems to get you in trouble, it seems,” he chided, as his lips twisted into a wicked grin.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” he disparaged, leaning his head away from the older man, looking rather unconvinced at the proposition. Hannibal raised his brows as if to dare him to say no, and after a moment of consideration, the younger man relented with a nod.

He proceeded to guide his fingers into the younger man’s mouth, opening it and delicately positioning the scarf, bringing the ends around the back of his head, tangling into his messy curls as he completed the knot.

“Will, are you able to breathe?” he asked, clinical and flat.

Huge eyes looked back at him, wide and frozen in contact. He nodded in affirmation.

“Do you understand?” he asked quietly, adding, “That you _belong to me_ , Will?”

He nodded again, slow and deliberate.

“Do you understand the consequences of your _amusement_?” he asked, his tone growing more ominous.

Again, the younger man nodded slowly.

“Good,” Hannibal responded, clearly pleased and _quite_ amused.

“ _Do you trust me, Will_?” he whispered in a low, growling voice. The corners around Will’s eyes softened and though his mouth was gagged, Hannibal could see the lines relax in his face.

He offered a single, definitive nod of his head.

One edge of Hannibal’s mouth curled into a predatory half smile, narrowing his eyes hungrily at Will as if fighting the instinct to ravage him.

Hannibal guided his fingers to his own shirt now, pushing the buttons free with a hastened urgency. He shrugged his shoulders out of the shirt as he tossed it gently on the nearest table surface.

Will’s cock twitched as he studied Hannibal’s physical form, the muscles in his shoulders contracted impressively as his hands made way to unfasten his pants. His entire body was built for domination, but Will loved to watch him exert his strength for gentle actions – unbuttoning his pants, running a hand through his hair, tracing a finger across Will’s scar …

He growled from under the gag as Hannibal finally removed his pants, standing nude in front of him, his uncut cock leaking a trail of precome down its shaft. Will fidgeted uncomfortably, desperate for the use of his hands and mouth to guide Hannibal’s dick straight into the back of his throat, his mouth practically watering at the imagery.

He watched as Hannibal circled him like his prey, breaking eye contact only when he grabbed a small, plastic container and set it near Will’s chair. Another grunt escaped from Will at the sight of the lube, dazed in frustration at his loss of control.

A hand reached into Will’s hair, caressing gently as Hannibal lowered himself onto Will’s lap, carefully threading his own legs through the back of the chair, bringing the two men face to face, wet cocks sliding against one another.

Will tried to cry out as Hannibal lifted himself and grabbed Will’s cock, pulling it behind him into his ass cheeks. His hips swayed up and down, Will’s precum slickening Hannibal’s opening as he felt his tip graze against the tight entrance. It jerked desperately in Hannibal’s grasp, painful in its rigidness, and Will was unsure if he could last even one more second.

Hannibal lifted himself again, releasing Will’s cock, and reached down the bottle of lube. Will whimpered and groaned at the loss of contact, and had he been able to speak, a barrage of curses would be directed at the older man. Will’s face contorted in agony, as he repeated the same muffled noise from under the gag.

“What’s that, Will?” Hannibal asked with an entertained smile. Again, the same muffled sound.

“Is that a ‘please,’ I hear?” he questioned, with a curious tilt of the head.

Will nodded, looking anguished. He made the same, muffled noise, dragging it out.

Hannibal emptied a pool of lube in his hand and began to work it around Will’s cock, slow and deliberate movements, and then lifted himself up again, guiding Will against his entrance. Already slickened with lube, he stretched himself with two fingers before pushing Will in, balancing his weight on the armrest.

Eyes rolled into the back of his head as Will entered the tight, wet space, as a series of unintelligible groans were muffled behind the gag. The younger man’s angular hips dug into Hannibal’s thighs as he grinded into his cock, pushing him deeper with each thrust, but ensuring a slow, methodical pace.

Sweat beaded down Will’s temple, trailing down the side of his neck as Hannibal leaned in and traced his lips across the flesh, lifting and swerving his hips as Will bucked into him, fucking him into the center of his core. Hannibal’s cock slickened a trail between their stomachs, hard and throbbing from the friction between them.

As he noticed Will’s thrusts becoming more desperate, Hannibal lifted himself off Will, his cock dripping and pleading to finish.

Will’s chest heaved in and out and an animalistic growl exploded from his chest, and even through the bindings, Hannibal could sense the raw, primal rage building within. He pulled at his restraints and squirmed as Hannibal hovered over, watching him with an endearing smile.

Hannibal pulled the gag out of Will’s mouth, allowing him a brief moment to speak.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” he spat angrily, panting, as Hannibal raised his eyebrows in amusement and started to replace the twisted scarf back into Will’s mouth.

“Wait,” he shouted, through the muffled fabric.

Hannibal looked to him inquisitively, expectant and removed it once more.

“Please, Hannibal,” Will begged, huffing between his labored breaths, “Just please, let me finish.” Curls were plastered to his forehead, dampened by sweat.

Hannibal smiled sweetly at him, but said nothing. He let a free hand stroke up and down Will’s length as they deliberated, whimpers continuing to pour forth from the younger man.

“Oh _god,_ I’m _begging you_ , Hannibal,” he groaned weakly.

“I’m not God, Will,” he responded, as he leaned into Will, lifting up to take him in once more. He groaned as the cock shoved inside, guided by Will’s impatient thrust. No longer gagged, Will growled as Hannibal slammed down against his cock, swerving his hips so that his own cock slid against his stomach.

“But I'm sure we've got His attention,” Hannibal said through ragged breaths, a twisted smile forming briefly but waned as he tried to control his breathing between thrusts.

Will launched his head forward, burying it into the silver curls on Hannibal’s chest and bit hard against the flesh, causing a grunt to escape from under his partner’s breath. Will’s body tensed and the heated sensation exploded through his body, crying out, as he finished inside Hannibal.

Hannibal moaned as the wet release slickened his insides and he grinded his wet cock against Will’s stomach, triggering his own emanation, warm cum spurting onto both men’s abdomens. He rested his forehead on Will’s shoulder for a brief moment, collecting his breath before he lifted his hips and separated their bodies.

He paused to admire Will, hands still bound, stomach slick with Hannibal’s semen, sweating and panting. Will knew the look well – Hannibal was transposing this scene to his memory palace. He looked up to him knowingly, lips curling into a grin.

“Untie me, _you dick_ ,” Will said, finally, purposefully breaking his careful concentration.

His mouth formed into a smile. “Dear Will,” he mustered through a long sigh, “have you learned nothing from this?” Hannibal walked around the chair and began to loosen the silk around his wrists.

Will wriggled his hands loose as soon as he felt the slack and stretched his arms above him, before pulling the scarf from his neck, discarding it on the floor next to him with a victorious smile.

He turned to face Hannibal. “Oh, I've had _quite_ the education,” Will stated fondly, before turning to grab his clothes, looking back to him with a playful wink. 

Hannibal shook his head in disbelief, marveling at the exquisite creature that stood before him.


End file.
